Story Preview for Eric
by MarioMaster101
Summary: Something I need my friend to read.
1. Chapter 1

The sun peaked over the horizon, bathing the sky and all beneath it in a dawning hue of golden glory. The sun shown all throughout the beautiful countryside, and eventually fell onto the sleek metropolis in the middle of it.

The city is known as Tarsonis, the capital of the Mar Saara province. Mar Saara is one of six provinces on Ichor. Being the first planet that was colonized by humans, Ichor has a charm that the original earth had lost. This planet was blessed with humanity's second chance. Mankind had worked hard to build their modernized metropolises, but at the same time, preserve the beauty of the planet, minimizing pollution and damage to nature. The efforts had succeeded, and as a result, Ichor flourished, and its one continent was filled with beauty. Surrounded by oceans on all sides, the continent had been bestowed with the name of Euphera.

The morning sunlight gleamed off of the buildings, many of which were built out of a reflective metal obtained from asteroid mining, and it was a metal that seemed endlessly abundant. Hovercraft shot by on the elevated roadways, and TVs installed as animated billboards advertised the new products available to the masses, or occasionally, the local news. The sunlight sparkled off of yet another parked hovercraft, this one parked in the driveway of a small suburban one-story house.

As the sun rested on the vehicle, a young man emerged from the house. Young and gangly in appearance, the lanky man wore a solid white polo tee and gray khakis. He carried a briefcase with him. One of his most notable features was his long, unkempt, flaming red hair. He brushed this hair out of his eyes as he got into the hovercraft.

As he stepped into the craft, he cursed quietly about running late. He started the car and was soon gliding out into the surrounding country.

As the hills rolled by, Jerry Baker began to space out. He could remember his childhood, how it flung him through being an adult, and now to whatever he was now. He could hardly call himself human, being next to immortal…But things had changed so quickly…

"Keep down and you won't get hurt!"

A muscular 8th grader was towering over Jerry, pinning him to the wet, muddy earth with his foot.

"Why, what did he do?" Jerry yelped, hardly able to speak as the pouring rain dripped into his mouth.

"Just stay down!" The 8th grader repeated furiously.

Jerry watched. The junior high students were beginning to gather around the schoolyard. To gather, and to watch his friend getting a pounding on behalf of a second 8th grader, who was even bigger and meaner than the one pinning Jerry down.

It had happened very suddenly. Jerry and his friend had been walking, and the next thing they knew Jerry had been thrown roughly to the ground and pinned, while his friend was dragged not too far away, where he was now being openly beaten.

This was nothing new for Jerry though. He had been bullied all his life. He was just a nerd, or maybe he was just meant to suffer. Either way, he had few companions; But Jerry knew that no matter what happened, he had to protect his friends, as they protected him. Maybe this was the concept that brought Jerry to the rather foolish conclusion that he could overpower a middle schooler who was two grades above him. Jerry tried to get up. Surprisingly, he was allowed to stand.

The crowd waited with baited breath to see the consequences of this turn of events. Jerry started to speak.

"Stay away from him! He didn't do anything to y—"

"You should've stayed down!" Jerry's captor jeered.

WHAM. Before Jerry had even registered the agonizing hurt from the punch, Jerry stumbled backwards and fell on his back. He laid in the mud, watching the rain pour onto him, and feeling his nose steadily drench his face in blood.

That's when Jerry couldn't remember anymore. Jerry grimaced from the recollection as he turned the craft into a parking lot, passing a mesh fence on the way. The fence had a sign haphazardly hanging from it:

**WARNING!**

**AUTHORIZED PERSONS ONLY!**

**ALL TRESPASSERS **

**WILL BE PROSOCUTED!**

Jerry parked and stepped out, grabbed his briefcase and walked up a ramp. The building he was heading towards was built on top of a giant bluff made of pheronite, a mineral that was very stable. It couldn't be drilled through with anything less than a machine with the power of a class five earthquake. This was for security purposes…to prevent an attack from anybody who might try to burrow their way in, thereby protecting the building on top from an attack from below.

He arrived at the top of the ramp, and another gate blocked his path. Attached to the gatepost was three red blinking lights, among other things. A microscope eyepiece was poking out of the gatepost. Jerry stuck his eye into it. There was a blinding flash of light as he was optically scanned. The first red light turned green. Next, Jerry reached over to a keyboard built into the gatepost and typed in "Jerry L. Baker". He waited while it matched the fingerprints he had just left on they keys with the name he had typed. The second light flashed green. Now Jerry stepped to a small microphone.

He spoke slowly and clearly. "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog." The gate swung open as the third red light flickered to green. The security was very tight, and to even enter the building, an optic scan, vocal scan, and print scan were necessary.

Jerry stared up at the building before him. Six stories tall, with two more buildings and a blacktop behind it, Jerry was standing before a massive outpost. The top floor, Jerry could see, had a giant glass window.

Jerry stepped into the building. The lobby was a large, spacey room that could easily fit twenty people in it. However, right now there was only him and a secretary. She chewed noisily on her gum, which Jerry could smell even from a distance. The sickly sweet scent was overwhelming. Her hair was blonde, and pulled tight into a single ponytail.

"Sorry I'm late," Jerry began, "I had to take care of my gran and you wouldn't believe the traff—"

"Sit down," She said, interrupting him with a harsh, callous voice. She pointed to a large couch against the opposite wall without lifting her eyes from a form she was filling out. "Somebody will see to you in a moment."

"Umm…oh no, no, I'm the new guy here." Jerry stated quickly realizing she had mistaken him for a reporter, or possibly a civilian. "I'm supposed to see a Mr. Berenson."

"Well you'll have to wait, he won't be in until later." She said, still not taking her eyes off her deskwork.

"Really? I thought he was coming in early today to see me." Jerry paused, trying to decide what to say next. After a moment, he continued, "are you sure he hasn't come in yet?"

The secretary finally looked up at him, Her hazel eyes looked daggers into him and she scowled. "Why the Hell do you think I would know?" She burst out angrily. She continued speaking, and her voice began to drip sarcasm. "I'm just the lowly secretary. Not fit to lick the great, exalted Ms. Henderson's puss—"

She was interrupted by a loud ding that echoed through the lobby. An elevator door tucked against the far back wall swung open, and a figure emerged.

He was a tall, muscular man. He was noticeably aged, even for a near immortal like Jerry. He had thick, black hair, and a thin, finely trimmed mustache. His black hair was long in the back, and noticeably shorter towards the front. As his hair grew out, it had apparently curled, and gave his hair an almost shaggy look, which put Jerry's merely untidy hair to shame. He wore a red tank top, and over that a leather trench coat, black except for faded white stripes lining it vertically. Ripped, tattered jeans with boots completed the ensemble.

However, by far the most notable feature was his left ear, which Jerry now noticed was composed of machinery. Jerry understood that a cyborg stood before him, but not in the same sense as himself. This cyborg had external fixings, and Jerry knew it wasn't a hearing aid, but most definitely a testament to a particularly dangerous enemy that had almost bested him. Jerry nervously hoped he would never lose a body part on the job

As he stepped out of the elevator, he began to speak in a commanding, strict, yet confident voice. It was the sound of a man who you could trust, but also not someone you wanted to anger. "Hello Chelsea!" He exclaimed jovially to the secretary. Chelsea made a grunt but otherwise did not acknowledge the greeting. "And you must be Jerry Baker. My name is Seth. Seth Berenson, that is. I'm the leader of your squad, Squad Seven."

He stuck out his hand, and Jerry shook it, not taking his eyes off the ear. Seth noticed where he was looking. "Oh, that's just a small injury. It actually goes in pretty deep. They had to fuse the circuitry to the brain. But don't worry, the idiot who gave me this is rotting in prison now. There's a story for that, but I'll have to tell you that another time. Care for a tour?"

Jerry nodded.

"Cool, follow me than." Seth announced, and he headed towards a door next to the elevator, and Jerry hurried after him.

His trench coat fluttered behind him as he stepped into the stairwell beyond the threshold.

"That's a nice trench coat, but why the stripes?"

Seth chuckled as they headed up the stairs. "Well, I got this for my twenty-first birthday…it's my personal lucky article of clothing. People have their lucky socks, underwear, but I have a trench coat. And you know what? The only time I didn't wear this trench coat on a mission, I lost my ear."

Seth opened the door to the second floor, and they walked into the corridor. Seth pointed to the left path "down there is the anti-grav elevator. It leads to a second building build on a higher part of the cliff, which has the armory, laboratory, medical wing, archive, VR chamber, and lounge. The cliff has three tiers, and we're on the first. On the third is a "docking bay" of sorts where we keep most of our vehicles. it also has our barracks and shooting range." He than pointed in front of him, where a coffee machine stood on a small table. "And this is our private beverage dispenser. Well actually, everybody uses it, but we agents pooled our money for the purchase. Want any coffee?"

Jerry declined, having already had a cup at home.

"Well ok than. The right end of the hall has our control room, where we monitor security" As he spoke, a man emerged from the stairwell. He grabbed a cup and filled it and began to drink. He wore a suit of armor, not like a knight, but reminiscent of a space marine or an armored space suit. His arms were not covered, allowing muscles to show, so round and evident that Jerry wondered for a moment if the man took steroids. He also was noticeable for his aviator shades, which hid his eyes from view.

"This is Mike Greco, he's the chief of security, and the commanding shock trooper." Seth stated. Jerry remembered learning about them during his training on the original Earth. He had learned a lot about shock troopers, and how they were used as reinforcing teammates, often helping on more dangerous assignments. Jerry allowed his mind to wander for a moment.

A younger Jerry grinned, holding his diploma in his hand. Having graduated from college, he had come a long way. He hugged his gran, and waved to Ms. Bean, who approached from a nearby seat.

Ms. Bean came up to him and shook his hand. "You've come a long way Jerry. It seems like just yesterday you were taking my Biology class. I'm glad it influenced you to be a teacher."

Gran smiled. "Well, he's always liked learning. He's a good kid, I expected nothing less."

"At the same time, I'm not used to seeing him so happy. Most of my memories of him from high school involve me having to save him from some torment inflicted upon him by another student."

"Yes, he never instigated it either." She turned to Jerry now. "It's always been one of your best qualities, almost to a fault. To choose what's right over what's easy.

Ms. Bean laughed, "Although sometimes he just doesn't know when to pick his battles".

Jerry finally spoke. "I'm just glad I'm finally here. I'm lucky to have you, Gran. And I'm lucky that I had you to help me, Ms. Bean. I just hope I can influence somebody else in the same way."

"Yo, are you listening? Pay attention!" An angry voice was speaking to him and he came back to the present. He saw the man with the shades, and nothing else. In fact, all he saw was himself reflected in the shades. This was due to the fact that Mike was about a second away from locking lips with him. Jerry dropped his briefcase and nearly fell over a backwards.

"What the heck? Don't get in my face like that!"

"Well than stop jerkin' off on planet retard! When I flex, I expect you to gasp in awe!" He flexed and Jerry could have sworn even his muscles had muscles. He managed to lamely say "wow" and Mike let his arm fall, looking satisfied yet slightly disappointed with Jerry's apparent lack of speechlessness.

"Yes, Mike can be a little…eccentric." Seth said, obviously at a loss of what else to say.

"Don't call me queer! I ain't some faggot!" Mike bellowed, and Seth raised his eyebrows in an attempt to seem mildly amused. As he said this, a second shock trooper walked in. He stopped for a second, halfway to the coffee counter. He abruptly turned around and went back down the stairwell from where he came.

"I dunno what that was about, but that guy was Bill Dunham." Seth frowned. "Wonder what was eatin' him." he paused for a minute, lost in thought. He recollected himself and continued. "Why don't we go see the armory? You'll see the full base in time, but I do want to show you a few things. Besides, we only have an hour, and we've already been twenty minutes." Jerry picked up his briefcase and followed Seth down to the anti-grav platform, and they were soon inside the armory.

"So we're here. First of all, take a look at these." Seth pulled a sword out of a large crate, filled with several other swords, all the same as this one and all with the handle side up. "Always leave these handle side up. Last thing we need is somebody stabbing themselves in the palm of their hand. Anyways, this is a cutlass. We use them as a tool for close up melee. When somebody gets too close to you just—" He made a stabbing motion with his hand.

"You need a sword to stab somebody? Isn't that a little extreme?" Jerry pondered aloud.

"Yeah, well, we like to think of them as long knives, or daggers. That's what they are, really. Besides, there are times when I think we really should upgrade to swords, with the enemies we have to face." Seth paused, concentrating on something. "Hold on, follow me" He said, and Jerry hustled after him as he briskly hurried down the hall.

They stopped in a large, empty room. The only thing in the room was a small table in the middle, which had a helmet on it. The occupants of this room were two more shock troopers, who had apparently been lost in each other. They gave a start when Seth and Jerry entered, and hurried to pretend like they had not been passionately smooching.

"This is our VR chamber. And this is Diane Richardson and Steve Marcoh." He turned to the two of them. "Stop doing that, it's not appropriate for the work place." He turned together him and Jerry walked back down the corridor to the armory again.

"How did you know they were doing that?"

Seth pointed to his ear. "I can hear all kinds of things with this thing. With this, my left ear can hear things that you couldn't hear even if you knew to listen for. I can hear people making out from a long ways away"

They entered the armory again, and he pointed to a large rack, where various weapons were held. "Here's where we keep most of our weapons." He picked up an assault rifle. "A basic AK assault rifle. Very useful. It has a scope, and is excellent for mid-ranged combat or urban and jungle warfare."

He put it back and picked up another weapon. "A close quarters battle shotgun, for when you're in a hurry, and a precise shot would take too long. Firing 12 gauge shells from an 8-round clip, the M47 shotgun can clear the room as fast as you can pump the action and pull the trigger. However, I would suggest you never dual wield a cutlass with this, as it's pointless to have two close ranged weapons." After putting it back he pointed to a third cluster of weapons, these were much smaller. "These are modernized magnum revolvers. They're loud, have unbelievable recoil, but it's well worth it as it packs quite the wallop."

Now, he gestured to several weapons propped against the back wall. "Over there we have a couple of M21 sniper rifles, as well as a chest of tools. We also store our supplies that we often take on missions, such as binoculars, grappling hooks, zip line equipment, rope, matches, flares, and medical kits. There is one other special tool we often use; it's in a separate box." He pointed to another large crate. "Go on over and pull one out."

Jerry walked over to the crate. It was filled with what looked like small television remotes. Jerry knew what these were. He had learned much about hologram projectors in training. Holograms were used to create three-dimensional imaging, useful for anything from graphs and maps to elaborate illusionary tricks. There were eleven buttons, ten of which were numbered zero through nine. These were the command buttons. Jerry keyed in a combination of them that he had been taught over and over again back in training. It was the most common and simple technique; it created a lifelike holographic clone of the user.

Sure enough, Jerry pointed the remote and pressed the eleventh button, the red one at the top. This button was used to activate the code keyed in with the command buttons. Sure enough, where he pointed the remote, a second Jerry had appeared.

Jerry understood the use of having a fake copy of himself in battle. Trickery and deceit, when applied with thought and experience, could easily turn the tables in a battle. He walked up to his copycat. He pulled back his fist and made a punch for him in the chest. The fake Jerry keeled over and yelped in pain, than suddenly shimmered and disappeared. Jerry pocketed the remote.

"Also, we have a special weapon we like to call God's Thumb." Seth said, as Jerry turned back to him.

"Why do you call it that?" Jerry asked.

"Well, ever been fried by a radiated beam of laser-focused sunlight from the heavens? No? I didn't think so. When you see this weapon in action, you'll see where it gets its name".

He grinned contagiously. "Well, I guess I'd better hand you over to Jolene. Come with me kid."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Back across the anti-grav elevator, Jerry followed Seth into the main elevator and they rose to the top floor. They stepped out on an open balcony, and they met up with a shock trooper, guarding a door.

"This lady here is Susan Blodgett." Seth explained. "She's here guarding the door to Ms. Henderson's office. As you know, the secretary and the boss both work together to manage this outpost. Jolene Henderson works to advise and brief us agents on our missions, and the secretary you met before, she has the task of filing paperwork and controlling the administrative duties. They work together, and they both require the other in order for this outpost to function. However, Chelsea often gets the impression she's much less important, since she sits alone on the bottom floor all day and never has anybody calling her 'boss'."

"Is that why she's so mean?" Jerry questioned.

"Nah," Seth said, "That's just her personality. She'd still be a bitch even if she were working on the moon base." Susan stepped aside, and Jerry and Seth were allowed to enter.

Jolene Henderson's office was immaculate, with a large, three paneled, floor to ceiling window that looked out over the front of the outpost. A vase stood next to the door, lush with blooming tulips. At the opposite end of the room stood a large, mahogany desk, stacked with papers and a stained blue mug. A computer also sat on the desk, and behind the computer sat a woman, who Jerry assumed was Jolene. She wore an emerald dress, and had long, straight red hair; similar to Jerry's in color. She looked up and smiled welcomingly as they entered.

"Hello! You must be Jerry Baker. I'm Jolene, Nice to meet you." Jerry stepped forward as Jolene offered her hand, and Jerry shook it. She turned to Seth and said, "Thanks, I'll take him from here." Seth nodded and left.

"Well, I assume he's already shown you around. I'm just gonna have you watch an orientation film. Most of it will already be familiar to you I hope. Come with me." Jerry tagged along after her, and they went back past Susan to the elevator. They stopped three floors down.

"Just so you know," Jolene stated, "there's a sealed in room on this floor. It was an architectural flaw. The builders somehow forgot to install doors into the room, and we've never needed the extra space badly enough to fix the issue." They turned down the hall and into a room that was mostly empty. It had a few tables, and Jolene pulled back a chair for him to sit behind one. An old film projector was pulled out into the middle, and the video was set in to play. Jerry watched as the video began.

A swarthy man with an eye patch stepped onto the screen and began to speak. "Welcome and congratulations! If you're watching this, than you're officially an agent of the Bureau of Modern Affairs. Your training at Area 51 on Earth is complete. Also, there's a possibility you took an extra step and also took training on the planet Bolse. But before I continue, allow me to back up and explain."

"What is the BMA? It is an organization that deals with modern affairs. It is divided into three divisions. First is Corporate, which handles things such as court trials, meetings, and all the politics and management behind the system. Corporate training takes place on Earth's moon, which is where the Corporate building is. The moon base is considered the headquarters, and the highest and most vital Bureau station."

"The Intergalactic Welfare Agency deals with alien immigration and treaties for alien technologies, culinary dishes, resources, or whatever else they might have that we might want. Alien contact, as you may or may not know, was made back in the nineteen fifties, when a government outpost in New Mexico, now known as Area 51, made alien contact. Although we've kept this fact secret to the public, it's generally believed by the consensus that aliens do exist, and although the government will continue to deny this, humanity knows better than to listen to us on the subject anymore.

Occasionally aliens criminals attack. Depending on the context of such an occasion, the Evolved Crime Task Force might get jurisdiction. That's where you come in."

"You are an agent of the ECTF. Your job is to deal with the superhuman criminals and any crime too tough for police to handle. It used to be the only time you'd meet a super villain was in a comic book. Nowadays, however, freak accidents from modern science can occasionally occur, resulting in real super villains, although we prefer to think of them as 'evolved criminals'. You have likely been recruited either by a special team of Corporate officials, known as Ragnavoks, or possibly a human liaison at your former work place. Whatever it may be, you've been recruited to the ECTF."

The man with the eyepatch began to explain about the various Internal Robotic Enhancements (or IRE's for short) and strength and stamina boosting injections used to create the ECTF 'supersoldiers'. However, Jerry's viewing was interrupted when as clear as day, a voice rang through his head. It was garbled, however, and Jerry wasn't sure what it was saying. He yelped in alarm, and Jolene, who apparently couldn't hear the voice, asked him if anything was wrong. Jerry shook his head but listened for the voice again. In a second, Jerry heard it, and this time, it was clear that it was Seth, speaking through the neurological IRE implant in his temporal lobes.

Can you hear me?

I can now, Jerry responded through his own implant. It was a type of thought-speak, allowing for mental communication, almost a form of telepathy.

Ok, just wanted to check and see how you were doing.

Thanks.

I also had to check to make sure your implants were working. I decided to catch you when you didn't expect it. But hey, better now than when I'm trying to communicate with you in the heat of battle.

Yeah.

Alright, I'll see you later.

The conversation ended, and Jerry noticed Jolene was giving him an odd look, almost reprimanding. Jerry figured it was because of the glassy-eyed look one would get when communicating with the implant; it probably gave the impression that he wasn't paying attention. He hastened to get back in the video's rapture.

"You've had to undergo training at Area 51," The man was saying, "which houses alien prisoners as well as a training camp. Depending on your previous career, you may have been allowed to skip parts of this stage of training. Let's look at a police officer. He already knows how to shoot a gun, duck and cover, and similar aspects that are taught in training. Therefore, the cop may skip some of the courses and move right to the more advanced classes that Area 51 has to offer."

This was not how it had been for Jerry. Being a teacher previously, he had been required to take all of the classes at Area 51. However, he chose to be a Biology Specialist, as he already had a degree in Biology, being the class he had taught. This allowed him to skip the extra training on Bolse, which was meant for people such as a cop or military marine who wanted to specialize in a science, but had no knowledge of the subject. Marines or cops could do other training though without having to invest extra time at Bolse. Area 51 offered courses to specialize in things such as weapons, sabotage, poisons, terrorism, torture, vehicles, interrogation, and agents often mastered a combination. For Jerry, training had taken a total of ten years, even without training on Bolse.

However, upon graduating from the training, he was given a series of treatments before he could be allowed to work for the Bureau. One such treatment was the injection of an anti-aging serum into the blood stream, a treatment only given to the extremely wealthy, or for military or government purposes. This meant he would live almost twice the normal human lifespan, which in this day an age could easily go up to one hundred and twenty years old.

Although Jerry was really thirty-one, he had the physical appearance of a person in his late twenties, when he had received the injection. The anti-aging did not stop growth, but slowed it down and stalled it considerably. If Jerry lived long enough to be one hundred, he would have the estimated physical and mental stability of a lively sixty two year old. If he took good care of himself, he could trim that number down to fifty-seven. If he died of old age, his estimated age when he would most likely croak was two hundred and twelve. This was part of why he was considered to be "near immortal", as well as a key component to making him an ideal supersoldier that could handle the difficult job as an ECTF agent. Provided he didn't die in combat before he retired, he'd benefit from a very long and enjoyable retirement.

"You may have been handpicked to be a leader by a superior. If that is the case, an additional congratulations is necessary. You are most certainly a valuable agent, and one who possesses great skill and potential."

"All agents such as yourself must specialize in a certain study, which will be used to further the five person teams in which you will function."

The man with the eyepatch now grinned as he stepped over to a whiteboard, which had been covered in drawings detailing elaborate strategic tactics and evasive maneuvers. He began to speak once more.

"As you very well know, your team leader, who you've probably just recently met, is not just the leader, he doubles as the team's tactician and strategic specialist. This extra role is ideal for a leader, as the leader must be able to plan ahead and recognize not just all the possible moves his team can carry out in a scenario, but also their consequences. For example, let's say your team is moving through a jungle, and you encounter a powerful gun turret. You decide to hide and decide on what option to take. Do you charge forward and attack it head on? If so, a hidden sniper could pick one of your teammates off in an instant, and that's not something a leader ever wants to be responsible for. Throw an explosive at it? Maybe. But if it doesn't affect the turret, the hypothetical sniper will probably see where the explosive is thrown from, and so your location will be revealed."

"As you can see, there is no 'best' option, which is why a leader needs to think not just of the direct consequences of an action, but the resulting reactions stemming from the consequence. If you chose your second option, you would have a moment to vacate your position before the enemy could make a decision on how to deal with you."

As the man continued to speak, going on about various evasive tactics and battle plans, Jerry began to zone out. Most of this was review, he realized, so he decided he didn't need to pay too much attention. His thoughts once again preoccupied him.

A younger Jerry grinned, holding his diploma in his hand. Having graduated from college, he had come a long way. He hugged his gran, and waved to Ms. Bean, who approached from a nearby seat.

Ms. Bean came up to him and shook his hand. "You've come a long way Jerry. It seems like just yesterday you were taking my Biology class. I'm glad it influenced you to be a teacher."

Gran smiled. "Well, he's always liked learning. He's a good kid, I expected nothing less."

"At the same time, I'm not used to seeing him so happy. Most of my memories of him from high school involve me having to save him from some torment inflicted upon him by another student."

"Yes, he never instigated it either." She turned to Jerry now. "It's always been one of your best qualities, almost to a fault. To choose what's right over what's easy.

Ms. Bean laughed, "Although sometimes he just doesn't know when to pick his battles".

Jerry finally spoke. "I'm just glad I'm finally here. I'm lucky to have you, Gran. And I'm lucky that I had you to help me, Ms. Bean. I just hope I can influence somebody else in the same way."

Jerry suddenly realized Jolene was glaring at him again, Jerry sheepishly turned to watch the remaining ten minutes of the video, annoyed that he had really allowed himself to space out this time.

"Thank you for watching, and good luck…you'll need it." The man with the eyepatch walked off screen and the film reel ended. Jolene pulled it back out and moved the projector back into the corner where it had come from.

"Any questions?" was what Jolene said next.

"Yeah, I have just one…Why are we using a film projector and not a hologram?"

Jolene shrugged. "Well, the projector works, doesn't it? And we rarely have to drag it out, so it's not worth investing on an upgrade."

This place could do with more fundings than, I take it?" Jerry wondered quizzically.

"Well, not really. Whenever we end up with property damage, we get funding for repairs. Usually, we have a bit left over, and we can splurge…although occasionally we save up for something big, like our VR chamber, which is rather recent. A lot of our stuff comes from overbudgeting-induced splurges. For example, our coffee machine, the radio in the tech lab, the tank of frogs, and my polished mahogany desk. I'm not sure about the weight lifting equipment in the lounge…I think Hank paid for that, actually."

"How often could property damage possibly happen?" Jerry queried skeptically.

Jolene chortled. "Well, it happens a lot more than you might think."

Jerry had thought up another question. "Who's Hank?"

"Hank Kennedy, he's another agent. You'll meet him later, but for now can I show you the barracks where agents stay overnight occasionally?"

"Sorry, all this touring has kinda worn me down," Jerry replied, "maybe later?"

"Sure, that's fine with me. But you probably at least want to put away your briefcase in the locker room?"

"Sure, I'd like that."

And so after a brief ride of the anti-grav platform, Jerry found himself in the men's locker room. The locker room was large, but it's size was hindered by rows of lockers. Another section of the locker room featured a shower area, and several urinals and stalls. A large and elegant mirror covered a section of wall across from the toilets.

Seth was outside waiting to take him back from Jolene. Seth showed Jerry to his personal locker, in which Jerry set his briefcase. He closed the locker shut, and at that very moment, another man stepped in, who nodded to Seth as he entered.

He was lean, tall and pockmarked, with pale skin and glossy black hair, which was cut short. He wore combat boots, camouflage cargo pants, and a bulletproof vest, which was barely concealed by a leather jacket, as well as a scowl, which made him seem angry and bitter. He looked at Jerry in what Jerry judged to be distaste and possibly anger, even contempt. Jerry hesitated, unsure of what to say, or if he should say anything at all.

"This," Seth said, breaking the tense moment, "is James Duncan. He will be your tutor, and you will be his pupil."

"What!?" Jerry exclaimed in a baffled outburst. How could he work with somebody who was obviously a grump? Better still, since he had graduated from the academy, why did he need a tutor at all?

Seth continued as though he had not heard the blurted out response. "You see, upon arrival, all new agents are paired with a more experienced agent. This 'tutor' of sorts, helps his student learn the ropes, and cope with the difficulties of the job. It is very beneficial to the student, and eventually the student eventually becomes equal or even superior to his mentor, and he can help the one who taught him in return. Most importantly, the tutor-pupil bond is to create a sense of belonging, a go-to when things are tough, and to have a friend who the new agent can learn to trust with his life. It is statistically proven that this whole experience is key to helping new agents learn to trust their lives in the hands of others, and so attaining this bond is of utmost priority." He paused, opened what was probably his own locker, and pulled out a bottle of water. He took a couple of long swigs, and put the bottle away. Then he spoke again.

"It's very important you have somebody to guide you. I happened to be a tutor for another agent you will soon meet, Zoey Fisher. Zoey is one of my closest friends now, and she's the second in command on my team largely because of the fact that she formed an important bond with me from the very beginning. You could say I gave her the secondary team leader position because I favored her, but it's more than that. True, if she had not been assigned to me it might very well be somebody else. But at the same time, I got to know her and formed a trusting connection with her that I haven't with anybody else on the team."

Jerry listened to all this, while he thought quickly about what this might mean for him. But he stopped worrying so much about the concept of a cranky advisor when he realized that now that he had a teacher, he was most likely about to go on his first mission. However, when he voiced his thoughts, James interrupted rather rudely.

"You," He said, with his scowl spreading into a sneer, "Are a loser."

"What did he say!?" Jerry exclaimed in half anger, half disbelief.

"You heard me. As much as your naivety annoys me, I have no choice but to be your mentor. But you're not ready for a mission yet. I want to do a pre-evaluation training exercise to test whether you're capable."

"I am not a loser!" was all Jerry said in response.

"Did you pay any attention to what I just said? You're an even bigger loser than I thought. You're not ready yet…and at this rate you might not ever be."

"Seth, do I really have to work with this idiot!?"

Seth surprised him with a grin. "Jolene assigned it, not me. But regardless, you guys will learn to get along just fine. Before you know it, you two will be like brothers." He paused, lost in thought, and than repeated the last word. "Brothers…"

Seth stood by in his sandbox, petting the German shepherd and sobbing. The poor dog seemed confused, and eyed him watchfully. His parents seemed upset as well. His father looked white-faced and speechless, and his mother remained livid with rage. They stood in his front yard, while cops hurried here and there, and occasionally one would enter the Berenson home.

Seth hadn't meant to get his brother Jake in so much trouble. He wouldn't have done what he did if he knew it would cause problems for his family. Seth more than anything else, felt overwhelmed with guilt. He felt guilty because he had gotten his brother in this mess. He felt that it was his fault that his parents were angry. Seth felt particularly bad because his dad was a cop, and had high expectations. Now Seth had ruined his father's expectations of Jake, and made more problems for his father to deal with. And to top it off, now the dog looked annoyed with him, and got up and wandered off to get attention from a nearby officer instead.

More German shepherds sniffed about, looking to see if there was any other evidence other than what Seth had found. From the looks of it, there wasn't. Cops wandered around, and neighbors watched through their windows, and a few even stepped out onto their lawns to watch the scene.

Suddenly, his brother was marched out of the house by a cop. He was handcuffed, his arms behind his back. Seth tried to catch his eye, but he didn't look up from the ground. The cop roughly shoved him into a cop car, and slammed the door shut.

Seth ran up to the car, and began to snivel apologies. Jake ignored him at first, as if hoping he would go away. When Seth persisted. He looked up and glowered at him. He shouted furiously. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Seth was brought back to the present by Jerry and James, who were bickering fiercely. James apparently had called Jerry a loser again, and now Jerry was upset. "I refuse to work with this guy! Give me someone else!"

James frowned. "You're a stupid one, aren't you? For the last time—"

"I am not stupid!!"

"For the last time, I don't want to deal with a pest like you either, but I have no choice. So let's get this over with quickly so we can both get on with the priorities in our lives."

"Seth, why do I need an evaluation anyways? I just went through the academy, didn't I?"

Seth sighed. Jerry was starting to get on his nerves. Than again, James had a way of riling up just about anybody in a way that Seth had never thought possible before meeting him. When he had first met James, James had pissed him off from the start too. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Fine, you don't have to work with James."

James seemed shocked but relieved, and Jerry's face brightened. "Really?" he gleefully exclaimed, "than who do I work with instead? Can I work with you?"

"No, you can't work with anybody" Seth said amusedly, "You're fired."

Jerry's jaw dropped, and he looked foolish for a moment, standing there with his mouth hanging open. James looked bemused, as even he imagined this was a rather radical thing to do to the poor newbie.

"Well," Seth said slowly, "You do have one other option if you want to keep your job."

Jerry perked up again. "I'll do anything!"

Ok, this here is James Duncan, and you can choose to work with him."

James groaned. He should have known all along Seth was just pulling Jerry's leg and forcing Jerry into willingly working with him. Jerry finally took a deep breath, resigning himself to what lay ahead. "Fine, let's just get this over with."

"All right loser," James said, his scowl morphing into a grin for the first time. "It's time to whip you into shape."


End file.
